


Out And About

by WaldosAkimbo



Series: Quick and Dirty Good Omens Crack or Drabbles [17]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Blood, M/M, Quick and Dirty, Wall Slam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaldosAkimbo/pseuds/WaldosAkimbo
Summary: Someone seems to be hunting Gabriel down an alleyway.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: Quick and Dirty Good Omens Crack or Drabbles [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789003
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Out And About

**Author's Note:**

> I do not know the time or the place this happens. It just does!

The gentle tap of soles on the cobblestone sang melodically down the alleyway. It was an even, perfect tempo, hypnotic with each sure step. No scrape. No falter. Approaching. _Hunting._

A little further. That’s all. A little further to find sanctuary. Clutching the robe to his chest, the rough fabric foreign on his palms, he turned a corner and found himself faced with _dark_ and _stone._

And the footsteps continued.

“Mother, help me.”

Paltry prayers fell as he pressed further into the shadows.

“Forget where you are, dove?”

Their voice was as cool and even as the footsteps, so sure of themselves. All but a blink out of the inky night and suddenly hands were on him, the harsh bite of stone against his back, knocking the wind out of him. The only apology was a tattered lip seeking out his own. When they crashed, their teeth clattered, and he thought the stone cracked behind his head. The only bit of reprieve were the small hands climbing up the front of him and tearing away the simple robe.

“Who dressed you?”

“Mm, far as I can tell, that’s standard.”

“It’s…itchy.” He chased after them, dipping his nose until it brushed against theirs, the perfect uneven plane of it.

“I _know.”_

“Take it off.”

“That’s your job.”

As it stood, Gabriel never had to ask twice, with subordinates, with the Metatron, and, thankfully, with Beelzebub tonight, who had caught him outside the cathedral during “off” hours. He was meant to be delivering a message, but a quick game of cat and mouse was too great a temptation, even for an Archangel.

Prince Beelzebub clawed down the front of his robes, relieving him of the stiff, starchy material. They were coming into the 19th century. They could do better than these heavy wool habits. He did hate them. Maybe he should slip in a quick word on cotton along with his message of good will and all that. Hadn’t he said something to that one apostle? Peter?

Whatever he was thinking was driven out as Beelzebub bit him again, their little sharp hands making quick work of the outfit and catching Gabriel’s torso for good measure. He thinks they just like seeing the lines down his body and he has to ignore the sweet pleasure of seeing them kneel as they lick little rivers of gold off his skin.

Then, of course, they paused, and tugged at the end of a lilac scarf he had tied around his neck, hidden under the uniform.

“What?” he asked, a tad breathless. “I needed _something.”_

Another shove put Gabriel’s back deeper into the wall, but he simply returned the favor by dragging them into the dark with him. Quick shade from the night, the dust falling around them as they pierced the building. Too bad about the brickwork. But, then again, St. Stephen hadn’t been his department. Just had to hope the building was empty, or that people were inspired to make a quick exit.

-

Aziraphale crossed the street, clutching a small basket with some yummy foods for their morning picnic. _They_ meaning he was on his way to fetch a certain someone, when he found a crowd gathered around a partial cave-in. He was naturally drawn in, curious of the accident, a second and horrible belated concern if everyone made it out alright.

“What’s the hulabaloo here, then?” he asked as people felt inclined to make room for him.

“Act of God,” someone said, looking back over.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Yeah. Figure it was an angel.”

“An _angel?”_

“Can make out the wings and everything.”

“Oh, that can’t be right,” Aziraphale said, bristling slightly at the accusation, but he moved closer and was startled to find his dear companion laughing too hard with someone who looked like they very much did not want to be there. “Crowley? What in the _hell_ is going on here?”

“Yeah, figure they got in him too,” Crowley said around the lovely shape of his laughter. He reached and finally tugged Aziraphale to his side, pointing at a small scrap of remarkably pale lilac caught in the rubble.

“Is that—”

“Mmhmm.”

“That can’t be—”

“Found one of Beelzebub’s ribbons.”

“Did you?”

“Hanging from the ceiling.”

Aziraphale gawked. Properly, even, which almost matched the awe at the group who had gathered where this unfortunate explosion took place. Now that he looked, he could definitely make out the shape of Gabriel’s wings cut into the building.

“They can’t be serious,” Aziraphale said with no attempt to hide his indignation.

“As the plague,” Crowley said and looked around with a laugh. “No, I wouldn’t bring it up.”

“Huh?” Aziraphale asked, his mind skittering at the thought. “And why on earth not?”

Crowley made a vague gesture towards the building, another towards the sky, a third towards the ground, and shrugged. Aziraphale did much the same, only adding a pout at the end for good measure.

“Don’t suppose you’re turned off for that picnic?”

Crowley glanced down at the basket and snaked his arm around Aziraphale’s, who all but squeaked, then even did so with the quick peck on his cheek.

“What?” Crowley asked and tilted his head down to look over his dark glasses. “I think they can overlook _one_ day, if we can do the same.”

Well. If it only cost a wall and a few rumors…. Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s arm and smiled.


End file.
